


let me play with your desires, princess

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Modern AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-10-30 17:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Dear diary,Send help.Jon Snow is SUCH a Daddy now!Sansa xoxo





	1. Daddy's Princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vela_Harker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vela_Harker/gifts), [Authors_Restraint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authors_Restraint/gifts).

> So, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. I have the next chapter written, and half of the third. :) There's no actual smut in this first chapter however, it's all just build up. I hope that you like it all the same.
> 
> NOTE: Additional tags may be added with each new chapter, please make sure to check them.
> 
> Gifted to Vela_Harker for being so kind as to take a look at what I've got so far and to Authors_Restraint for being so enthusiastic with the whole daddy kink thing whenever I've talked about this fic lol

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, life just isn’t fair, is it?_

That’s what Sansa concludes as she closes the book on the story of her love-life. It’s a short story – a novella, a ramble, a blog post, a tweet at best.

And not a very interesting one at that.

_What I want from a man_-, Sansa decides, scribbling in her personal diary with her sparkly pink pen, -_just doesn’t exist. It doesn’t. I’m positive._

_Is it too much to ask?_ \- Is it too much to ask that she find a kind, caring man who she also trusts enough to let them in on the little kink she’s realised she has?

Her last boyfriend, Harry, had jumped at the chance to indulge her in her sexual wishes – but, in the end, he’d simply served his own. He was only too keen to try holding her down, being more dominant with her in the bedroom, but Sansa could tell he just wasn’t listening to what she wanted. She didn’t trust him enough to get as far as letting him tie her up, so why on earth would she stay with a man that she didn’t trust?

Maybe she needs to switch up her life? Maybe she doesn’t even need a man at all? Maybe she should finally take up that offer to temp at Jon’s office down in Dorne? That might be just the change of scenery she’s in need of.

Robb’s best friend of a lifetime is such a sweetie. He’s only grown more handsome in his years and whenever he visits Winterfell, he’s sure to remind her that should she want to vacation down in Dorne or even get some work experience at his father’s publishing house, then he’ll hook her up.

He’s so kind and generous.

_Why can’t I find a man like Jon?_ Sansa writes, sighing as she closes the pink leather journal. She trusts Jon. Jon is a good man. Perhaps too good? Would he turn his nose up at her desire to be dominated?

Besides, none of that even matters because Jon Snow only sees Sansa as his best friend’s sister – and not even his favourite of the two Stark sisters at that!

Still, maybe she should take up his offer? Maybe she could try a life in Dorne for a while?

***

It was very kind of Jon to let her stay at his apartment while she finds her feet. All these things he’s doing for her – giving her a job, letting her stay with him, stocking his kitchen with all her favourite foods. He even repainted his guest bedroom a delicate shade of pale yellow, knowing the colour makes her feel cheery. Sansa’s not sure how she’ll be able to show enough gratitude.

Jon only waves her worries away whenever she thanks him, saying that he’s happy to have her company. He’s very sweet, but Sansa makes a mental note to try to cook something for him and be out of his hair as much as possible.

He drives her into work – they’ll be at the same office after all, and Sansa’s heartrate picks up a few notches that first day when he emerges from his room in suit trousers, a crisp white shirt and plain grey tie. She’d only ever known him to be in jeans and a hoodie (or flannel, depending on the weather). He looks... well, he looks... _very good. _Good enough for her to suggest he take that tie off and use it to tie her to his headboard-

_Lord, have mercy!_ She needs to stop thinking in that particular direction with regards to Jon. Jon is Jon. Jon is Robb’s best friend.

“How do I look?” she asks, raising her arms and twirling in his kitchen. Today Sansa had chosen a pale lavender dress with little daisies dotted all around it, she likes the way the floaty fabric fell softly around her knees. She’d styled her hair in waves and wore her usual gold ‘Sansa’ necklace around her neck.

Jon’s eyes skims up from the nude patent leather heels she wears on her feet before he licks his lips and clears his throat. “Perfect, Sansa. You look perfect.” He smiles at her then, a soft smile that made her feel warm inside.

Jon driving her to work made her feel something else inside – a little fluttery - though that was down to the fact that Jon Snow apparently now drove a very fast sports car, a far cry from the beat up old truck he cherished when they were younger. He laughed that lovely deep laugh and looked over at her with a smile when she squealed a little as he sped up and rounded a corner rather hastily, the rumble of the engine feeling like it was purring from within her own chest.

Once they parked up and entered the office building – that’s when the revelation happened.

The receptionist was quick to step out from behind her station with two Starbucks cups in hand. “Mr Snow, one tall black and one skinny latte, as requested,” she listed off, handing him both cups, Jon gave one to Sansa. Apparently he’d ordered ahead and remembered her drink too. “Your morning meeting with Essos is running late and IT are having issues setting up your-“ she paused to look down her nose at Sansa, her eyes skimming the length of her derisively, “-_intern’s_ desktop. They can’t seem to get her access to the drive.” Sansa bristled a bit. This woman seems to have decided not to like her straight away.

Jon frowned. “That’s not good enough,” he remarked brusquely. A little bolt of electricity shot down Sansa’s spine. She’s never heard him talk like that. Jon’s always soft, always sweet. At least, he is with her, anyway. “And Miss Stark is my new personal assistant until she decides which department she’d like to gain experience with, if any. I’ll thank you to use her name and extend the same kind of respect to her as you do to me.”

“Yes, sir,” the receptionist flustered.

Jon took a sip of his coffee and almost spat it out. “These are cold,” he took the cup Sansa was holding and gave them both back to the woman.

“I’m-I’m sorry, sir.”

Jon said nothing, only turned to walk towards the open elevator. He stopped to let her in first, arm reaching out to hold the doors open. “I’m sorry about that, Sansa,” he told her, his voice deep and his eyes kind again. “It looks as though you might be without a computer while IT gets things sorted.”

“That’s alright,” she says, smiling.

When they reach the correct floor, office workers seem to greet them briefly before scurrying away, clutching binders and paperwork as they went. Jon barked some orders to someone, not bothering to stop as he strode towards what is to be her new desk.

“Val!” he called to a pretty blonde. “Don’t mind getting me and Sansa a coffee do you? I’ve got Essos on a conference call soon.”

“Yes, Mr Snow,” she answered before swiftly making off to fulfil his order.

Sansa sat down in the comfort of her new plush leather desk chair. “I’ll get on the phone to IT to try and get things sorted,” Jon told her, sitting on the corner of her desk. Sansa nods, feeling herself flush a little. His eyes rake her up and down one last time before he left, closing the door to his private office. Sansa routes around in her bag for her familiar pink leather journal.

_Dear diary,_

_Send help._

_Jon Snow is SUCH a Daddy now!_

_Sansa xoxo_

***

_Gods,_ what has he done?! Why did Jon invite Sansa to come and work at his father’s company down in Dorne? Why did he insist that she come live with him while she’s finding her feet? Why has he essentially surrounded himself and filled his days with Sansa Stark?

Because he’s a masochist, that’s why.

For as long as Jon Snow has known Sansa Stark, Jon Snow _has been in love with_ Sansa Stark.

_Seven Hells,_ he’s such an idiot. He has to stop this. He has to stop thinking about her _like that._ If it were Arya here, living and working with him then there would be no issues at all. They’d just goof around. But _no,_ it’s Sansa, so instead of goofing around, Jon is constantly having to check himself for staring too long at her lips, or those cute little freckles she has scattered across the bridge of her nose – and he definitely needs to stop jerking off to thoughts of her because his cock is one stroke away from developing a mortifying Pavlovian response to the sound of her voice or the smell of her perfume.

If Robb knew half the stuff he thinks about when he thinks of Sansa, he’d kill him. No question about it.

It’s just that not only is she gorgeous, she’s so Gods-damned _good,_ too. She’s like... wholesome, girl-next-door, should be teaching a kindergarten class, always does the right thing, is ridiculously organised and sweet and caring – _good. _And, for some perverted reason, this makes Jon so fucking horny he can’t even sit comfortably.

Just last week, before she’d started at work, they’d sat around his apartment, him reading a rather dull book and her attempting the crossword puzzle from his morning paper (she’d asked politely first, of course,) and she was so ridiculously adorable it made his heart ache as he covertly watched her from his place spread out on the couch. She was trying desperately not to chew on her pencil as she pondered her answers. This proved to be quite a difficult task as the thing kept managing to find its way between her candy pink stained lips. She was gripping it lightly between her teeth before realising what it was she was doing again and removing it from her mouth. Behind her ear, a purple pen had been tucked away, waiting patiently to be used once Sansa had completed the puzzle. Yes – Sansa Stark liked to fill in crappy newspaper crosswords in pencil first before committing to irreversible ink. And Jon knows he’s going to hell for imagining that purple pen being tucked behind her ear as he bent her over his desk at work, lifted one of those pretty, floaty sundresses she likes to wear, pushed aside her panties and-

_Seven Hells, get a grip!_

And now – _now_ – things are even _worse_, because Jon has made a discovery. He hadn’t meant to. All he was doing was moving her laundry from the washing machine to the dryer because he had a load that needed washing himself, but in doing so, he’s unearthed the fact that perfect, good girl, Sansa Stark wears some delightfully racy lingerie under all those pretty, proper clothes.

There was lace, there was satin, there was some kind of see-through mesh material, there was even a pair of stockings. Sansa’s legs would look so fucking good in stockings. He’d almost whimpered pitifully when he’d made the discovery that his perfect prim and proper girl might have a more risqué side to her – one she keeps hidden, only to be revealed whenever she chooses.

And then she’d chosen to do just that on Friday night.

They had ordered take out and opened a couple of bottles of wine to celebrate Sansa’s first week of working at his father’s publishing house. The evening was winding down and he could tell they were both getting pleasantly affected by the wine. Sansa kept giggling. It was a wonderful sound. She kept remarking on how different he is when he’s in the office. How people are almost afraid of him because of his no-nonsense demeanour. Jon knew that was true – he’s had to adapt since moving down to Dorne and working for his father. Sansa had a twinkle in her eye each time she mentioned it. And then talk somehow turned to their love-lives. Of course, Jon’s not going to admit that no girl he’s ever dated could hold a candle to how he feels about her, and he suspects that he doesn’t particularly want to hear about any of the lucky fuckwits who got the chance to be with Sansa and blew it, that is, until she makes a terrible and utterly wonderful confession.

“I broke it off with Harry because I knew deep down he couldn’t satisfy my secret little kink,” she blushed and giggled and tried to hide behind a sip of her wine.

Jon sat up straighter on the couch. “Oh, really?” Consider his interest very fucking _piqued_. “What kink might that be, Miss Stark?” He’s flirting a little, he knows. He really shouldn’t but the wine and the evening and everything about Sansa is making him feel extremely bold right now. Robb would totally kill him if he could see him now.

“Well, I-“ she pauses, looking down to the honey-gold liquid swilling around in her wineglass, “please don’t think I’m weird but... have you heard of a daddy kink?”

He has.

He absolutely has.

_Oh, fuck. He’s screwed._

“So you...” _Gods_, she looks so fucking adorable right now blushing and biting on her lip. “... you want to be dominated?”

“Yes, but I... I don’t want to be hurt, or _degraded_...” Sansa paused, averting her eyes and taking another delicate sip of her drink. “I want to be teased and I want to be submissive... but with someone I trust completely. Someone who takes the time to know how to push all my buttons, you know?”

Jon is about _this close_ to reaching over and lifting her into his lap to declare that if there’s any buttons she’d like _him_ to push then he is _ready_ and _very willing_ to push them.

“And Harry wasn’t prepared to do that?”

Sansa huffed. “Harry thought that it meant I would call him Daddy and he could just order me to suck his dick any time he wanted.”

Jon almost choked on his wine.

Sansa giggled.

Reaching over, Jon felt bold enough to tuck some of her gorgeous fire-kissed hair behind her ear and gently stroke the apple of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “That was wrong of him,” he said quietly, her glittering blue eyes gazing into his, “want me to have a word with him, princess?” Sansa sucks in a breath and Jon feels a spark run down his spine from affecting her so. That’s not the first time anyone has used the nickname for her – she’s always been a perfect little princess. It might be the first time he’d used the endearment out loud though. “He needs to learn not to treat women like that-“ He tells her. She looks as though she’s caught between staring at his lips or staring into his eyes and _fuck,_ he really needs to not say what he’s about to say because Robb will actually murder him until he’s dead and then resurrect him to murder him some more. “No one should treat my good girl like that.”

Sansa licks her lips and Jon’s mesmerised by the rise and fall of her chest as he continues to cup her cheek in his palm. He leans forward a fraction, his heart beating wildly before his phone starts ringing loudly, making them both jump apart.

“It’s Robb,” he says frowning down at the screen and feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been thrown over them both. Did the guy have some sort of sixth sense that Jon was finally about to try and find out what his sister tasted like? He diverts the call to voicemail, too keyed up on Sansa Stark and her daddy kink to be able to think straight, let alone talk to Robb.

_Fuck_. He was a bad friend. A bad, bad friend. It’s probably for the best anyway. Just because she’d confessed her little secret desire to him, doesn’t necessarily mean she wants _him_ to fulfil it.

At least that’s what he tells himself anyway.

Turns out, Jon could go on telling himself any number of things and it wouldn’t make one lick of difference when Sansa starts wearing a new necklace the following week.

“Do you like it?” she asks with a shy smile, a finger stroking across the golden script. “I had it made especially. I ordered it online.”

There, resting on her peaches-and-cream skin, where her normal necklace would lay, spelling out her name, were the new words in shiny swirly italics; _Daddy’s Princess._

Well, it looks like Jon better pick a burial plot now because he’s as good as a dead man.


	2. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who commented on the first chapter!! I'm really happy that you're enjoying this slice of jonsa kink! :)

_ _

_Dear Diary,_

_You won't believe what's happened!..._

The day starts absolutely awfully. Ever since hitting puberty, Sansa has suffered from the occasional throbbing, debilitating migraine headache and it is the literal _worst!_

Today was one of those days.

Although they are pretty terrible, what it normally means for Sansa is that she absolutely cannot do anything until she's had the chance to sleep off her migraine for a few hours in a pitch-black, silent room.

Therefore, she was regretfully going to be missing out on another day at Jon's office, sitting there trying desperately not to chew through her damned pen as she watches Jon, ordering everyone in that commanding tone of his and taking no shit whatsoever.

_Gods,_ some days she worries that people can just tell how wet she is from spending all her time with him. And the way he'd called her 'princess' and 'his good girl' just the other night - she's been replaying that back in her mind on repeat whenever her hand slips down and she-

_Calm down, woman! Seven Hells!_

Anyway, today, she is staying home - well, Jon's swanky apartment anyway. She’d awoken feeling fuzzy-headed and groggy around midday. Thankfully the monstrous migraine that had been stomping around at the back of her head had decided to leave her be.

Slipping from her covers, Sansa went to open the curtains. The view from Jon’s apartment is quite stunning as cityscapes go. Sunspear looks almost peaceful from this high up. She shrugs her lightweight silk robe on around her shoulders and goes to make herself some coffee and something to eat. Her phone starts ringing just as she put some of her favourite seeded bread into the toaster. Her heart-rate picks up a notch when she saw the caller ID.

“You’re awake,” Jon said, his voice a deep, hoarse whisper in her ear as if he were the one who’d only just awoken. “How are you feeling now, princess?”

Ever since that wine-soaked evening, Jon keeps calling her by that endearment every now and again and each and every time it makes her feel all fluttery in the panties department. Sansa is _dying_ to call him daddy in return but hasn’t worked up the courage quite yet – aside from wearing that new necklace of hers.

“Much better after a few extra hours in bed,” she tells him before stifling a yawn, “although, I’m somehow still feeling sleepy.”

Jon let out half a little chuckle. “Well, rest as long as you want. Is there anything you need me to stop and get for you on my way home?”

Sansa smiles into her phone and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. She adores the fact that the very same Jon Snow that seems to make project managers, literary agents and PR executives piss their pants and duck their heads as they scurry off to do his bidding, is the same Jon Snow who is extremely caring and thoughtful towards her. Harry had never been as considerate with her... not that she’s comparing the two. “No, I’m fine thank you.” _Daddy._ She bites her lip and sucks in a breath. Jon doesn’t speak for a while and Sansa starts to wonder if maybe she’d spoken the word aloud. “Hurry back,” she whispers, “I’ve missed you today.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Sansa’s heart begins beating wildly. They’ve been skirting around each other with these funny little flirtations they’re exchanging ever since her drunken confession of her kinkier side. And each day they circle closer and closer to _something_ happening. Sansa finds herself enjoying the dance. She’s full to the brim of anticipation for where they take this thing between them, but there’s something to be said for the journey too.

One thing’s for sure; she doubts Jon Snow just sees her as Robb’s little sister any longer.

Jon releases a pleased rumble down the phoneline and Sansa is reminded yet again of him calling her _‘his good girl’_. She hadn’t realised how much pleasing Jon would turn her on.

_I guess we’ll add praise kink to the list, Diary._

“I’ve missed you, too,” he tells her, low and raspy. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Sansa ends the call with a smile on her lips until her toast pops up, making her jump. Not long after she finishes her rather late breakfast and first coffee of the day, there was knock at the apartment door.

“Miss Stark?” the smartly dressed man from the concierge of Jon’s building asked. Sansa nods, smoothing her hair and wrapping the robe tighter around herself. _Gods, what must the man think with her in such a state at midday? _“Mr Snow has asked that these were delivered to you,” he hands over a large pale pink bag with black cord handles. On the front was the logo for one of Westeros’ most expensive high-end lingerie labels; _Petals of Highgarden_ – Sansa would know, since she salivates over their collection catalogue and occasionally treats herself on paydays.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the bag, excited and a little mystified.

“Mr Snow said for you to ring down to concierge if they are not to your taste. I will return them on his behalf.” He left her with a respectful nod of his head. Sansa closes the door, a second or two of silence passing before she squeals and races to her bedroom.

Inside the bag was a box in the same pale shade of pink. Sansa lifts the lid, her excitement building with the soft crinkle of the folded tissue paper. She peels it open to reveal a gorgeous set of buttercream yellow lingerie. The material was a delicate gauzy thing which features little sky-blue embroidered winter roses, the colour of which was mirrored in the prominent silky bows featured between the breast cups of the bra and resting at the back of the panties as if presenting her bum like a gift-wrapped present.

They were gorgeous!

And Jon had picked them out for her. Jon had _bought_ her lingerie.

_Oh, Diary! He definitely doesn’t just see me as Robb’s little sister anymore!_

Sansa rushes back into the lounge where she’d left her phone so she could send Jon a text to thank him for the unexpected gift. Deliberating on the wording, Sansa types it out before deleting, only to type out the exact same words again. In the end, she hit send before she could change her mind and wanders back to her bedroom to try on her new underwear.

** _Sansa: Thank you for my present, Daddy xoxo _ **

Her phone buzzes with a reply almost instantly.

** _Jon: I’m happy that you like it, sweetheart._ **

** _Sansa: I’m so excited! I’m trying it on right now!_ **

** _Jon: Show me._ **

Sansa blushes and chews on a lip a little. The way he’d put it in such a commanding tone – even through text - reminds her of how Jon is around the office. It made her tingle in certain places.

Sansa had made a rule way back when she was in high school to never send nudes. One of her friends, Mya had bent to her then boyfriend’s request for some racy selfies and just two months later he’d shared them online.

But she trusts Jon. She trusts him more than she’d initially realised.

And she wouldn’t be ‘nude’ technically, although the fine material of the underwear was pretty transparent. Nevertheless, a thrill slips down her spine like a raindrop rolling down a window pane as she turns on her phone camera and poses in the full-length mirror in her bedroom before she got an idea in her head.

Sansa pushes open the door to Jon’s bedroom and steps inside. It was minimally decorated but the carpet was lush and springy beneath her feet and what little furniture he used in here seems of very high quality even though it was a little too utilitarian in design for Sansa’s taste. The room smelt of his aftershave though, and Sansa smiles when she saw his bedsheets were a very Jon shade of black. She decides that she likes it in here very much.

Wandering over to his built-in wardrobe, Sansa slides one of the doors aside to find his clothes perfectly arranged on hangers and shelves. She reaches for a pristine white suit shirt and slips her arms inside the item of clothing, enjoying the way it almost swamps her frame.

Sansa takes a few photographs before deciding which to send Jon’s way. She chooses two; one shot of her in the full-length mirror, wearing his shirt, buttons undone to expose a glimpse of the pretty gifts he’d bought her, and another – an over-the-shoulder picture of her laid on her tummy, the bow framing her ass perfectly and his black sheets unmistakable as she laid there on his bed.

The scent of Jon’s aftershave seems strongest on his bed and Sansa wonders if she could get away with spending the rest of the day here as she awaits his response. A few seconds later, she got it;

** _Jon: I’m going to find it very difficult to concentrate in my meeting knowing you’re in my bed wearing very little._ **

Sansa grins down at her phone as she types her reply.

** _Sansa: I’m wearing your shirt. Is that ok, Daddy?_ **

** _Jon: It looks better on you, princess._ **

Sansa couldn’t keep the smile from her face for the remainder of the day. She decides to cook their dinner tonight; chilli – it had been Jon’s favourite when they were growing up so she hopes he still likes it. Her nerves were all tumbling over themselves as she stood at the stove, frying off the onions and garlic, still only wearing only her new lingerie and Jon’s shirt.

When she heard his key turn the lock, Sansa wills her heart to calm the fuck down. It was no use. She knew this though – she knew that the anticipation itself was a potent kind of aphrodisiac that crackled and fizzed inside her veins.

Sansa didn’t turn to greet him as she heard the clip of his office shoes enter the kitchen area and the clink of his keys as they hit the little ceramic dish he keeps on the table. She could feel his eyes on her though. _Gods,_ could she _feel_ it. It was like he had his strong hands all over her, stroking every inch of skin he could reach. Except, he was still a few paces away with no touch at all between them.

Hearing his steps as he neared made her heart race even faster and her cheeks begin to redden. _Seven Hells,_ he’s not said anything or touched her – she’s not even looking at him and Sansa _swears_ she’s never been more turned on. There’s a few moments of just nothing at all – only the sizzle of the pan and Sansa’s heart beating wildly as she stirs, moving the onion around with her wooden spoon, feigning nonchalance. But then, Sansa feels a little tug at her back. It’s gentle but insistent and _slow._ It takes a her a couple of seconds to realise that Jon has pinched a bit of his shirt between his fingers and was gradually pulling at it, the material slipping up over her rear to reveal her new panties, pretty blue bow and all.

Sansa sucks in a breath when she felt Jon begin to gently stroke the dip of her spine with the back of his finger. Up and down, up and down, until his touch lowers to the silk bow perched prettily on top of her bum. He let out a pleased rumble from his chest like he had done on the phone earlier and Sansa’s knees felt like they’d turned to jelly at the sound alone. “Not wanting to get dressed today?” he asks, voice sweet and thick like honey and his breath warm at the back of her neck. Jon continues to play with the silk bow and Sansa marvels at how just this simple tease from him was making her want to squeeze her thighs together.

She shot him a glance over her shoulder. He was close. And _Gods-be-damned_ did he look good; still in his suit, minus the jacket and Sansa glimpses that he’d undone his tie too. She actually _did _squeeze her thighs together then. She wonders if he noticed.

“Your gifts are so pretty, I wanted to admire them all day,” she said sweetly. “Do you like them on me?”

Jon’s fingers pause their playing with the bow at her back before he took a step closer, eating up the space between them and gently pressing her into the counter with his hips. There was quite the sizable bulge straining against her ass cheek. “I don’t know. What do you think, princess?” he asks, right behind her ear as his hips roll once against her.

Letting a moan escape her, Sansa closes her eyes and began to slowly grind her ass back into him. Jon chuckles in that lovely deep way he does and moves to stand and press at her side instead of behind. His hand finds the small of her back again and he starts lightly stroking the dip of her spine with his knuckles.

With him so close, his gaze heavy, Sansa felt like her cheeks were aflame. She bit her lip and adds the chopped peppers to her pan, trying desperately to seem as though he wasn’t affecting her at all.

_I don’t think he bought it, dear Diary._

The gentle brush of the fingers of Jon’s other hand came to tickle her tummy lightly before he places his whole hand over her skin. She could see him from the corner of her eye still watching her intently; waiting for a reaction. She gave him none, but as his hand slowly travels lower and lower, she wonders if he can hear her pulse thump-thumping in her veins because the sound is almost deafening to her right now.

When the tips of his fingers breach the waistband of her panties, Jon pauses. Sansa thinks it’s to give her the opportunity to put a stop to all of this – and she appreciates that very much.

But there is no way in _hell _that she’ll be doing that.

His hand dips lower, and lower still until his fingers start to gently explore her pussy. Sansa’s eyes close and her breath stutters as Jon releases a low groan. “You’re a wet little mess down here, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he growls in her ear.

“_Yes_,” she breathes, finding herself swaying a little in his grasp. “I-I was... I was thinking about you all day and my princess-parts kept getting all tingly and slippery-wet... _daddy_.”

Jon’s lips twitches in amusement. “Your princess-parts?”

“Hm-mm,” she nods.

Jon leant closer, the scent of his aftershave now breaking past the smell of cooking. He smells so fucking _good._ Sansa wants to be surrounded by his scent. The thought alone makes her want to purr like a kitten. “Your princess-parts belong to me now, Sansa... Do you understand?” Jon cups her mound in his large warm hand. _Oh, fuck!_ It felt delicious and Sansa dearly wants to grind down on his palm. “This. Is. _Mine,” _he whispers deeply before his hand starts rubbing her in slow circles.

Sansa whimpers and nod her head. “Yes..._ yours.”_ She sways a little, utterly transfixed by his warm touch.

Jon presses a single kiss to her cheek that made her skin feel all tingly. _“Good girl.”_

Sansa shivers. Words have never had as much of a physical effect on her as now. And it was all Jon. She couldn’t imagine being turned on with just anyone saying these things. It was him.

And now he was slipping his finger inside her making her gasp and grip onto the counter tightly. He made a pleased sound and adds another, fucking her slowly with his middle and index finger. But then, as soon as he’d started, he stops and removes his hand from her altogether, making Sansa gasp again and sway. Jon chuckles as she stares at him, open mouthed as if unable to comprehend such cruelty.

Bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth, Jon sucks himself clean while holding her gaze. The pleasured noise he made shot straight between her thighs. “Have you cum today, sweetheart?” he asks.

Sansa closed her mouth and shook her head. She’d wanted to. All day, she’d been wound up so, so tight she dearly wanted to turn to her trusty wand vibrator. But she hadn’t. She’d wanted to keep riding that high of anticipation until Jon came home. And so far he did not disappoint.

“Well, why don’t you go take care of that,” he told her.

For a moment, Sansa was confused. “You mean-“

“Go and play with yourself until you cum, Sansa.”

“But-“

“That’s an order.” He arches a brow at her, daring Sansa to defy him.

Oh, she liked _that._

“I’ll take over here,” he took the wooden spoon from her and pat her on the bum to send her on her way. She was still a little confused, but excited. Biting her lip she made for her bedroom.

“Ah-ah,” Jon calls. When she spun around to look at him, he was wagging the spoon in the direction of the other room – _his room._ “From now on, when you cum without me, you’ll at least do it in my bed,” he told her.

Sansa could feel her pulse between her legs. _“Yes, daddy,”_ she answers hoarsely.

“And leave those pretty soaked panties in my room when you come back,” he calls after her.


	3. dirty girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, there might be a bunch of typos in this but I've been staring at for far too long and I just want it posted now - so apologies!!!

He’s never done anything like this. Jon has always been rather passive in his relationships if he’s honest. He’s never really ‘worked’ too hard to keep his partners happy. Not that he’s neglectful at all, he just... goes along with whatever they wanted, because what (or who) he really and truly wanted was home in Winterfell (and his best friend’s sister).

But he wanted this. He wanted this very, _very_ much.

And he’s never submersed himself into someone else’s desire before. But, to be honest, with the way things are going, he can pretty much claim this kink as his own now too. Anything to do with Sansa is Jon’s kink. But when she looks at him like that? Like he could make her cum from just growling a few filthy words into her ear? _Hell yeah_, he’s into it.

But what ‘it’ actually is, is not completely clear. Are they dating now, or is this just some kind of arrangement where he indulges her in her kinks? Jon’s a little afraid to ask, lest he be crushed by the answer.

He doesn’t want to fuck up whatever this is by asking, anyway.

Jon had taken a risk buying her some lingerie – sure, her wearing that necklace and them calling each other cute little names was a heck of a step up from his usual _‘kind-of-not-really flirting’ _with her like he was used to. But making that purchase at Petals and having it sent to her at home did feel like more than a ‘step up’ – it felt like a fucking massive leap. A part of Jon expected her to call him and let him know that he’d crossed a line, but he was hopeful, what with how she’d purred down the phone about how she’d missed him.

And then she’d called him daddy and sent those photographs. Honestly, he’d felt like cancelling the rest of his afternoon appointments and racing back home to tear those panties from her gorgeous curves and dive tongue first between her mile-long legs. But he didn’t. Jon remembered what Sansa had told him about her particular kink – the _‘tease’_ of it all seemed to be important to her. And if it’s important to Sansa, then it’s important to him too.

He’s not too sure what had happened to him when he stepped foot over his apartment threshold though. Knowing Sansa wanted someone dominant – and that ‘someone’ was him, made Jon see her a little differently. She was his now. That’s how it had felt, that’s how he’d wanted it to be.

And when she_ let_ him touch her – _fuck!_ That was the hottest encounter he’s ever experienced even though all he’d done was give her barely half a minute’s worth of a hand-job. _Seven-fucking-Hells, that was hot! _Removing his hand from between her legs had taken a great deal of strength.

Seeing her get so turned on and desperate for him? He’s never felt anything like it. It made him feel like a _king_.

_I did that._

** _I _ ** _fucking did that._

_Sansa was all worked up and whimpering and so Gods-damned wet **for me.**_

_No-one else._

Jon’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out on this teasing business though. _Fuck,_ he wanted her so bad. So, so bad. But he must say, the thrill of her allowing him to set the pace was a particularly heady one.

He’d gone to bed that night with the scent of Sansa on his sheets and visions of her touching herself running through his mind. He’d jacked off a couple of times just so he could calm the fuck down and actually get some sleep.

He may or may not have wrapped Sansa’s panties around his cock as he did so.

Currently, Jon could distantly feel the pull of the morning rays creeping through his curtains. Keeping his eyes closed, he rolled his head away to face the darker end of the room with a groggy groan. He didn’t want to rise yet, he wanted to stay in that pleasantly soft place between deep sleep and wakefulness. His sheets still smelt of Sansa – strongly. Amazingly strongly. And there was a slight movement here in his bed that he hadn’t expected. He slowly opened his eyes to be met with the sight of Sansa’s head resting on his other pillow. She blinked up at him innocently and Jon’s whole chest expanded with the breath he needed to remind himself to take. “And what are you doing here, princess?” he asked, trying to sound amused rather than the ‘absolutely delighted’ that he felt.

“I woke up early and...” She glanced down and nibbled her lip. “You told me that whenever I want to cum, I should do it in your bed.”

Jon swallowed and let his gaze skim over her body hidden beneath the covers. His covers. “And have you?”

Sansa pulled the blanket up to her chin and blinked at him adorably. “No, daddy.”

Reaching over beneath the warmth of the covers, Jon’s fingertips brush under her little camisole top to dance across the expanse of smooth skin at Sansa’s belly. She twitched under his touch and Jon watches her very carefully as he flattened his palm on her and continues to stroke slowly back and forth just above the waistband of her panties. “How badly do you want to cum, sweetheart?” Gods, he was so hard for her right now.

“Very badly.”

His fingers dropped lower as Jon’s hand travelled over her underwear. Sansa’s legs shifted beneath the blanket, parting to allow him better access as he teased her above the thin fabric barrier. With the pad of his middle finger, Jon traced the shape of her, lightly following the contours of her most intimate place. There was a tremendous amount of pleasure to be had from Sansa allowing him to do so. With her laying here in his bed, blinking up at him as he explored her painfully slowly, teasing her and him both. It felt as though she would allow him anything at all.

Her panties were soaked. _Fuck,_ they were drenched! Have any of his exes ever gotten as wet for him as Sansa does? Have any of _her _exes ever gotten her in this state? Has Jon ever been this turned on?

He’s pretty damned sure the answer to all those questions is no.

“Please, Jon,” she whines, her hips lifting from the bed, trying to seek more friction against his gentle hand.

_Fuck._ Having her here in his bed, whimpering his name or calling him daddy, practically pleading for him to give into his desire for her? It’s like he’s living in a wet dream.

Jon sits up, letting the blanket fall to his waist where he pushes it further down his legs and scoots back to rest against the headboard. “Come here,” he tells her, patting his thigh while he sits in nothing but his boxers. Sansa’s eyes rake him up and down, not at all missing the swelling of his cock. Her teeth sink into her lip as she scrambles to obey, cheeks flushing pink as she emerges from the blankets in just a thin white camisole top and matching panties with lace trim.

Jon hums appreciatively as she straddles his thigh, sitting with his legs spread to give her more room to perch on one of them. _Gods,_ she’s a pretty sight. He can feel her hot and damp against his skin. “Show daddy how horny you are, sweetheart.”

His clever girl gets the hint. She whines, biting her lip but begins to slowly grind herself against his thigh. “Like this?” She asks, one hand snaking its way down her stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of her panties.

“Uh-uh, princess,” he tuts, taking her wrist. “No hands. Not until I say.” He looks around and fortuitously spies the tie he’d taken off the night before, slung around the post of his headboard. He reaches for it and grabs Sansa’s other wrist, leaning forward to bind them together behind her back. His face is close to the crook of her neck as he completes his task and the scent of her there leaves him salivating.

Sansa gasps and although Jon’s instincts tell him it was a sound of excitement, he looked into her pretty blue eyes for confirmation. She licked at her lips. “Yes, daddy.”

Pleased, he leans back to watch her ride the hard muscle of his thigh. He says nothing for a while, allowing his eyes to slowly rake over her while she whines and pants, hips moving in circles or canting with more ardour as she uses him to fuck herself. Her own gaze over his body is hungry, and he doesn’t miss the way she’s frequently drawn to the strain in his boxers. “Mmmm,” he hums, pleased. “Good girl.”

“Touch me,” Sansa whispers. “_Please_, touch me.”

Gods, he likes it when she begs prettily for him. Jon regards her for a moment or two, watching as she continues to grind down on him, lip caught between her teeth and hands tied at the wrists behind her back. He lets his eyes fall slowly down her body, lets her watch him, watching her. It’s all part of the tease, the anticipation, the power-play.

“_Please, daddy!”_ she whimpers breathily.

Jon wets his lips and gives her a smile. “Is my girl desperate?” he asks, reaching forward to slip his fingers under the hem on her top.

“Yes, Jon, please,” she pants. He can feel her arousal hot and wet on his thigh where she rubs and bucks against him.

Jon flattens his palms on her stomach, feeling the muscles twitch beneath his touch. Smoothing both hands upwards, he rucks up her little camisole top as he glides over her skin until the fabric rests high on her chest, revealing her perky breasts. Releasing a pleased rumble, Jon slowly circles one of Sansa’s rosy nipples with the pad of his middle finger, careful to leave her with only the gentlest of touches.

Sansa whines and pulls on her bindings behind her back. “_Jon_,” she pleads.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, filling his palm with her breast, thumb softly passing back and forth over her nipple. “Look at my horny girl. Are you so desperate for it, sweetheart?” His hand trails down her ribs and over her frantic undulating hips to reach around and give her ass a squeeze. Sansa’s answer is but a whimper, grinding herself harder against his leg.

He sits back, one hand curled around her thigh as she straddles his, the other reaching down to free his aching cock. Jon feels a thrill at the longing in her gaze as she watched him leisurely stroke himself. “Let me watch you first, Sansa,” he says, “show me what a good girl you can be. Can you do that? Can you cum on my thigh like a dirty girl?”

“Yes, daddy,” she pants, hips bucking harder.

Jon kept his strokes slow and lazy, nonchalant even, in contrast to how desperately Sansa was chasing her bliss, fucking herself on his leg. He made a show of watching her, eyes trailing up and down her figure, licking his lips slowly as he watched her tits jiggle.

Sansa’s own gaze was torn between his eyes and his torturously slow pleasuring of himself. “Please, Jon,” she whined, “I... I want it.”

Gods, has he ever been harder? “And you can have it,” he said, licking his lips, “after you’ve cum for me.” Jon leans in, close enough to press his face to the hinge of her jaw, right by her ear. “Are you my dirty girl, Sansa?” he husks into her skin. “Such a horny little thing, rubbing yourself against me and begging for my cock.” Sansa sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you know how hard you make me, Sansa? Do you know how beautiful you are like this?” He whispers before nuzzling, kissing and sucking on her neck. “My princess, my dirty girl, cum for me, Sansa. I want to watch you cum.”

Sansa’s hips start grinding in tight little desperate circles and Jon knows she can’t be far off. “Come on, baby,” he whispers, pulling back as his hands come up to cradle her jaw on both sides of her beautiful flushed face, fingers spearing into her red hair as they stare at one another. “Come on, sweetheart,” Jon urges. Jon’s eyes are drawn to her pretty panting mouth and his thumb begins to trace the shape of her slightly parted lips. Her movements are stuttering now. She groans and whimpers, eyes fluttering closed while she gasps, her mouth now hanging open in a silent scream as her hips slow and jerk every once in a while.

Sansa leans forward into him with an exhausted sigh, hands still bound behind her back. “Good girl,” Jon whispers, stroking her hair and untying her wrists. Sansa slides off him, collapsing face down into the rumpled sheets with groan of a woman sated. Jon chuckles. He moves to hover over her, nose grazing her shoulder blade and cock sliding against her butt cheek. “You still want _this_, princes?” he asks huskily slowly rubbing against her.

Sansa raises her hips. “_Yes.”_

“Greedy girl,” Jon teases, nipping her skin before leaning back on his knees to hook his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He tugs them down to the middle of her thighs. It somehow felt dirtier to have her keep them on. Doing the same to his own underwear, Jon leans closer, rubbing the head of his cock between her legs, coating himself in her arousal. “_Fuck_, sweetheart,” Jon cursed, “you’ve made yourself all wet for me.” Sansa circles her hips in response.

Jon slowly slides himself into her with a groan before laying his body over hers, bringing both his arms around hers and lacing their fingers together where Sansa’s hands rest against the bed. She squeezes him in return as he presses his nose to her cheek and begins to thrust slowly. _Gods,_ this was utter heaven. “Are you mine, princess?” he asks. “Is this little pussy all for me?”

“Yes, daddy,” Sansa gasps, tilting her hips to take him in further.

Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth, a sound that morphs into a rumble of pleasure from his chest. He issues a swift peck to her soft cheek. “Good girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordy, lordy, I hope that was okay?


End file.
